


Grasping onto Smoke

by woahvechkin



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: After the memories crannies ending, Character Study, Garry & Mary are only mentioned, Gen, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 07:58:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19763908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woahvechkin/pseuds/woahvechkin
Summary: The smell of roses wilting. A hard candy in her pocket. Tangles of lilac. Shards of broken glass crunching beneath her feet.





	Grasping onto Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this extremely quickly and bc I had replayed the game after like 7 yrs today and had this in my head so if this actually sucks I’m sorry but the memory’s crannies ending makes me feel some kinda way

Sometimes, Ib feels on the verge of a revelation before the thought dissipates in her head, quick as it came. Constant memories she feels close to becoming privy to, but at most gets a vague sense, a feeling.

The smell of roses wilting. A hard candy in her pocket. Tangles of lilac. Shards of broken glass crunching beneath her feet.

They come in fear, in joy, in yearning. God, she yearns. For what, she has no idea. A person, or perhaps a place. A moment in which she resided and felt a quiet companionship.

Whenever she feels on the cusp of something, her mind wanders to the man in the gallery. The way his face seemed to soften at the sight of the rose, as if subconsciously reminded of a misplaced memory. She thinks, maybe we are in much the same situation. She was too young to tell, but perhaps he felt the same yearning she did.

And there was something else - a grievance inside her. There are moments in which she finds herself missing someone she knows does not exist. Often times she would be doodling in the corners of a notebook and suddenly would think, she would have liked this, but cannot place a person to whom she missed. Inside she feels a great longing, and a mourning for what once was, and what she cannot remember.

A gap exists inside her, and she doesn’t know how to fill it. But she finds in those moments, holding on to what she knows grounds her.

The smell of roses wilting. A hard candy in her pocket. Tangles of lilac. Shards of broken glass crunching beneath her feet.


End file.
